


Like Gravity

by CN7



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CN7/pseuds/CN7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra and Asami get up to crazy ass shit in their lives. Or, Life is actually really hard, but there's a lot of good stuff, too, and it's nice to have someone else to enjoy it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Gravity

## Ch. 1

######  Where the Spirit World is actually a mood ring from the early 2000's

Thunder claps in the late afternoon. Or, rather there is no other name to attribute to the boom that tremors against the ground, and rocks the very fibers of their cores. Asami is certain no rapid, electrical flash has made its way across her vantage. It is not the only thing she is unsure of here in this mystical realm so unfamiliar to most mortals.

The calloused hand encased in her own buckles them down to a standstill in the middle of a grassy trail. Korra crinkles her button nose, and narrows her pretty, suspicious eyes up at the darkening sky. A stagnant layer of what appears to be storm clouds lay in wait high above them in convergence with a billowing marine lair. Shadows merge, and condense with those of their persons and thick foliage.

"The weather's weird here. Kind of unpredictable," she explains. "But I thought . . .." After a pause she flashes her lanky companion a disarming grin. "Nah, nothing we've got to worry about."

Despite the value Asami places in the Avatar's word-the word of the person she trusts most-and the respect she has for the spiritual realm, she prefers to err on the side of caution and forethought. She is sure this place is not filled with the precise forces of nature from that of their home world. After all, most wildlife lack coherently verbalized opinions, but in this land, the wildlife is sentient enough to eavesdrop. Asami can hear them gossip: the whispers rustle in the leaves, the chatter of woodland creatures. Something greater thrives here.

She taps a thoughtful finger to her chin instead of balling another white-knuckled fist. An infallible thinker's habit if there ever was one. Or, so Asami thinks. "Have you ever been in the middle of a lightning storm in the Spirit World?"

"Have you?" Korra counters, intertwined fingers deliver a firm squeeze of intended reassurance.

Asami huffs a small laugh, and rolls her eyes when heat runs to her face. "Of course not. But is what we're hearing actually the sonic side to an electrostatic discharge, cloud-to-cloud, cloud-to-ground?"

Korra blinks and scratches behind her head with her free hand. "My quantum physics know-how is more implied than strictly textbook. But, I think so. Maybe. I don't know. Probably not. Science doesn't exactly apply here."

Asami blanches. For the first time since she stepped through the portal, she is fully conscious of the anxiety creeping around her ribs, inflating into her chest. There is no rhyme or reason in the Spirit World, no methodical or mechanical understanding. Her sole point of reference for prediction is a spirit still rather unversed in one of the two worlds she belongs to. The mystery is as exciting and beautiful as it is terrifying. But that fear can't exist, she doesn't want it to.

A growl rumbles across the atmosphere. Closer, more ominous. Flowers on the vines and ground shrink into themselves, seeking comfort from one another.

No, that's ridiculous.

Asami takes a second glance at the underbrush. She has to be sure. "Well, do wildflowers here usually cower?"

Korra tilts her head to the side, and makes a face, absently opening and closing like those koi in the pond back at the park. And then she kneels into the rich soil, breaks their constant contact, and-for a split second-makes Asami think she's lost her mind.

"Excuse us," Korra addresses the nearest pair, and not in the way some people mutter to inanimate objects out of habit or frustration. Her tone is earnest, and her intent genuine. "We don't mean to bother you, but is everything alright?"

No answer spills forth.

Well, of course not! What a preposterous expectation.

But that flare of . . . mild disappointment . . .?

Asami's sudden curiosity is more oppressive than her unease. This is an opportunity. So she swallows the fear and bubbles up a mental notebook. "Can they speak?"

Korra's expression falters, her lower lip protrudes, brows tug upwards. "No idea. I could be trying to communicate with nothing, for all I know. One spirit, two, a whole bunch. Orchards are never super talkative."

Asami snorts, and lightly brushes aside the sudden deflation. "I can't possibly imagine why."

Amusement reflects a twinkle into Korra's powder blues-such beautiful, open eyes that Asami can't help but lose herself in sometimes. "You joke, but I'm pretty sure spirits don't always need vocal cords to communicate."

Another wave of irony springs up, and compels Asami to comment on Republic City's local spirit wilds' own stubborn nature. But, when the atmosphere shudders the words catch in her throat. Her eardrums ring a note too high-pitched for comfort. There is a pounding so severe against her rib cage, she fears her chest will burst. Static heat erects goosebumps across her flesh.

And suddenly, Asami is six years old again with bare feet and frantic eyes, skirting across the upstairs marble floors of her home in the dead of night. Wind howls a ghostly wail, branches rap against windowsills, and lightning steals any peace of mind she might have had when she laid down to sleep. Machines moan and rumble and roar, too, but not like this-impatient and hostile. Her father's work is gentle just like him. And he offers solace only across the hall-the endless corridor with dancing shadows and hissing haunts. Safety can be found buried facedown beneath the duvet on her mother's side of the bed where her aroma still lingers, and she's more than a ghost that haunts a little girl's dreams. Her father's nimble fingers comb through Asami's tangled curls, and coax her to sleep as he scribbles away at a new design he is bound to reveal to her in the morning.

She clings desperately to the flash, because now most happy bits of her parents' memory elude her altogether. Intangible, fogged over, and distant. All she hears are angry shouts, the horrible smell of burnt flesh is pungent, gears are turning and whizzing, and a giant metal fist looms.

No, no, no. Come back.

Concentration furrows Asami's brow, and creases lines into her forehead. It takes her a moment too long to catch her mistake-she has been silent far too long.

Korra passes an anxious glance between Asami and the tumultuous sky. The Avatar knows something the heiress does not. "Asami, what are you thinking about?"

Heat prickles behind her evergreens, but the burn can be buried for now. "Bumi told me talking mushrooms are unreliable."

Somewhere deeper into the woods, a disgruntled snort bounces back.

Korra ignores it, and her features soften. "Never trust a fungus," she agrees.

Asami cannot tell if the Avatar is serious, or if she speaks from experience. But the turn of phrase is so odd and sincere, she finds herself smiling so widely her cheeks hurt. She's been doing that a lot lately.

Especially for someone who has so many logical reasons not to.

And then they hear it-drowning out the wildlife, rushing towards them like an angry moose-lion. So as rain begins to tumble from the sky like any other, the pair duck for cover beneath the banyan trees, ornamented with bemused expressions and cautious glances. From there it's all mud and splashes until they shuffle atop the dry, unearthed roots, and huddle side by side. Not for warmth. The air is thick coating enough. Asami knows that. Perhaps their motivation is solely to shrink into the limited space left untouched by the downpour.

She wrenches the jacket tied round her waist above her head, and offers half of the makeshift tarp to Korra. They have a real one shoved somewhere in the bottom of Asami's own pack. But when Korra scrounges for the opportunity to take part in sharing the worn garment, making an effort to reach for it suddenly seems null.

The thinly forested landscape is struck with the illumination twice that of broad daylight. And the resounding split of the heavens is immediate.

Heavens. Asami nearly finds the comparison amusing-given the circumstance. Instead, she tries not to flinch or dig her fingernails into her palms.

"I'm sorry!" Korra raises her voice against the muffling rain. Her cheeks are pink with a weak smile, and her eyes are lowered shyly. She looks so very guilty.

Asami's once sculpted, onyx bangs are damp and matted. A trickle of water runs down her forehead, and her brow scrunches as she wracks her recent memory for any transgressions. When none come to her, she feels the need to clarify. "For what?"

"This." Korra makes a broad gesture. "This is probably my fault. I should have explained earlier, but it didn't exactly occur to me until now because the weather was pretty awesome yesterday. And I thought the state of things here was really only sensitive to the Avatar, but then I realized it couldn't be only me because the thunder really took me off guard. Like, I'm super happy to be here with you, and I'm not saying you're not. Not at all. Thunder just seems sort of ominous, you know?"

Asami shakes her head. "I like thunder storms."

Korra looks a little confused. "You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure, they sort of scared me a little bit as a kid because I had this nagging fear I would be that one in a couple thousand people to be struck." Korra laughs, but Asami doesn't have the heart to completely reprove any morbid humor. So she rolls her eyes and continues. "The radio was always fuzzy, and sometimes the power would go out. So my dad and I would light candles and put on records. Sometimes we'd play Pai Sho, or read, or he'd teach me the steps to a dance. And they're actually really beautiful."

Then her heart feels like it's trying to escape from its cage because Korra decides it's a perfect time to remember that she is in fact a waterbender, and can indeed prevent any further moisture from seeping from the branches and landing on Asami's jacket. But not until after she's placed a quick kiss to the side of Asami's head, and told her that she's actually really beautiful.

So they wait out the storm as patiently as possible, and honestly, their task is completely effortless. Korra cracks a joke about waiting around in cramped spaces and how at least there aren't four others breathing their air. Asami counts the seconds between the flash and the clack, hopes the same rules of distance still apply, and plays with Korra's fingers. They make plans for tomorrow, the next day, and however long they'd like. And apparently there's an ancient library here that she absolutely needs to scavenge, and Korra has friends she would like to drop in on. Because why not? They're on vacation, just the two of them, and Asami really couldn't have asked for anything more wonderful.

By the time they've polished off a can of Flameo's Instant Noodles, and a strip of seal-otter jerky Senna had packed for their trip, twilight is nearly upon them. The rain has died down enough for them to establish a more amicable resting ground. Well, less on a damp surface, and more suspended above the ground in the hammock Korra shyly offers to share once the fire is started.

Taut with the musk of a lingering midsummer shower, a breeze sweeps across the air to banish thick clouds of muddled thought, and deliver sweet respite from what has begun to be almost oppressive humidity. Now, with muddy boots hung out to dry, stars pepper the inky blanket that breaks free between the steady, leathery trunks, and quite literally reflect off every possible surface.

Or, perhaps that ethereal glow of speckles is a certain type of moss?

An unstudied, hallowed moss with a very convincing interpretation of the star charts stowed away on the astrology shelves of countless libraries across Earth.

Are they really the same constellations here?

After all, Yue is unmistakable in either realm, but some things just seem so different.

She resolves to inquire Korra in the morning. A peaceful silence has enveloped them, and she doesn't yet wish to break it.

Korra's index finger traces the contours of Asami's nose, and she tries not to watch since she'll absolutely end up cross-eyed. Of course, her efforts are eventually fruitless, and Korra grins like there's no better sight in the world.

"I'm glad thunder doesn't upset you," she murmurs, and Asami suddenly feels a little guilty because lightning does bother her more than she's letting on. It really does. "The first time I was here, I made everybody anxious and dark spirity. The ground actually swallowed me, and Jinora and I fell into a monster inhabited river. We were separated."

The prospect is really rather terrifying. The Spirit World is amazing, but also in definite need of respect because Asami has absolutely zero interest in anything swallowing her whole. But she smiles anyways and whispers softly, "That's very comforting, Korra."

"I'm just saying," Korra drawls on as she brushes a dark lock away from her eyes. "You impress the heck out of me, Asami Sato."

Bumping her forehead against Korra's is the only way to really stop herself from maybe over-sharing how deeply she cares. After all, this is still new, and Korra is still healing in some ways. And they're young, and they have so much time left.

"And I say this now because we've been separated before, and I'd like to play my cards a bit more wisely in the future: You're kind of like gravity, and no matter what I'll always find you."


End file.
